


Mark me on your wrist

by maradidepaig



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, High Sherlock, John Being an Asshole, John Being an Idiot, M/M, Smug Mycroft, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Teen Greg Lestrade, Teen John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 07:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13735743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maradidepaig/pseuds/maradidepaig
Summary: The person whom John wanted to be soulmates with, had abandoned him for some ratty looking guy. And John's soulmate turned out to be a psychopath.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [southern_cross_phoenix (fukuro_kun)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fukuro_kun/gifts).



> Please enjoy. For people who have read the first chapter, please note that John/Greg will not be the ship here! Johnlockers, be patient!
> 
> For dummy who doesn't hv a brain, this is only here becuz of ur fic (cuz yeah I got inspired so I guess I'll give this to u) so I won't get sued for copyright infringement or anything

“C’mon John! You can do better than this.” Greg’s mocking voice came a few meters ahead. “Oh, silly me, I forgot your legs are so short.”

John came seconds later, catching his breath. “Watch your words, bro!” He pretended to hit Greg. “I intentionally let you win, cause I always win the races.”

“No such thing!” Greg laughed, panting. He lay on the grass, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He grabbed John’s shirt and pulled him down too. John let out a grunt of pain, and they fought playfully for a little while on the grass.

“My best mate, John.” Greg patted John’s chest. “How I love hanging out with you. And how I love these moments with you, just lying here, not thinking, not doing anything. If our times could last forever.”

John wasn’t listening. He stared at Greg, whose face, like any young boys, was smooth and white. His hair, an angry brown, was messy and fierce. His eyes shone with a special charm. John could not take his eyes off him. Greg was a nice guy, and quite good-looking. And sometimes he thought, there was something more than friendship between them. But so innocent and young, what did he know?

That was, until he heard the term “soulmates”. And John was certain Greg and he were soulmates. They talked about everything, and they understood each other so well, that there was possibly no other explanation except that their souls were connected and that they were destined to spend their lives together.

John was aware that soul marks could appear at any time in one’s life, but commonly one would get his mark at around eighteen. He was very patient at first, because there was no doubt who his soulmate would be. Even his parents agreed.

Every day he hung out with Greg, they joked, they fought, they did what best mates would do. But months passed by. Years too. In the blink of an eye John turned eighteen, and he still hadn’t got his mark. He began feeling uneasy.

Three months later, Greg had his eighteenth birthday. That day he complained of having wrist pain. At midnight, he got his mark.

And it said: Mycroft Holmes.

Greg seemed very excited and he kept bragging to John, teasing him for not getting his. In his excitement he could not notice the despair in his companion’s eyes.

“Don’t…don’t you think… you and I should be… soulmates?” John was almost crying. He could not accept the fact that Greg would be spending his lifetime with another person, that Greg’s soul had never belonged to him.

“Well we are brothers, but… not in that way. Anyway, I’ve had enough of the country walks, tomorrow I’ll set off to find this Mr. Holmes.” Greg said happily.

That night John knew what heart-broken meant. He had never been clearer about how he felt about Greg since that moment. But Greg was unreachable. Their paths would never cross.

Unless… John go with him and sabotage the relationship between Greg and this Mycroft.

During Greg’s busy visits to his neighbors for news of Mycroft, John always followed and was enthusiastic, or so it would seem. “I’m more than happy to help you, my friend, to find your lifelong happiness.” He always said to Greg, who, sadly, didn’t seem to be as close to John as before.

“Mycroft. Oh what a beautiful name.” Greg often said to John dreamily. “He must be a very handsome man, taller than me, maybe, with brown hair, just like mine. He would have blue eyes, and a long pointed face.” John would usually be too boiled with jealousy to respond.

One day, both Greg and John’s parents decided to send them to the city, to work. Greg had been so excited. He resumed his enquiring after arriving at the city.

Greg became a police officer, and John became a doctor. Both were not wealthy men, so they shared a flat. A week later, a man in an expensive-looking suit called on.

“Mycroft Holmes.” He held out his hand. Greg almost screamed. “I am aware that you have been searching for me, Mr. Lestrade. May I enquire what the reason might be?”

Greg hastily shook the outstretched hand and stammered: “Do you… have… have a… soul mark, Mr. Holmes?”

Holmes’s razor sharp gaze went up and down Greg, with the tiniest smirk on his face. John observed Holmes’s appearance. He’s much taller than me, he thought sadly. But that big fat nose, tiny eyes? He looked like a rat. Greg wouldn’t seriously pick him over me, would he?

“Indeed I do.” A smile spread on the serious man’s face as he slowly undid his cuff and showed his wrist. There, the words “Greg Lestrade” was marked on the skin.

Greg did not even tried to hide his surprise as he ushered Holmes to sit. “I… eh… I think you are aware… that… my soulmate is you, and yours is mine as well. So… eh… I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Greg.” His face was blushed bright red.

The two men talked for a while, neither acknowledging John’s presence, when they suddenly left for a walk. All the while John was not spoken to.

Anger and jealousy blinded John, as he swore to snatch Greg back from this ratty man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, bet you wanna punch John after reading.

Greg had been gone for four hours and not a word was heard from him. John went to the pub, ordered pint after pint of beer to escape from his sadness. He lingered for hours until the first break of dawn. Then he staggered back home, barely conscious.

As expected, the flat was empty.

The door was opened and the figure of Greg walked in. He saw John, hungover, lying on the sofa. “Woah friend, what happened to you?” He poured a cup of water but John would not drink it. He was still furious.

Greg did not notice. He carried on talking about his day with Mycroft. “You know what? Mikey is so rich his house is about twenty times bigger than ours!” “I can’t believe there’re actually still people at this age who keeps a pocket watch! Well, Mikey does!”

When John didn’t respond, Greg shrugged and said: “Anyway, I’m moving out tomorrow. I’m gonna live with Mikey. Having a soulmate is the best thing in the world, you’ve only known a person for an afternoon and you already seem like you’ve known him for decades. Wish you get yourself one soon, mate.”

“And by the way, Mikey has a brother who wants a flatmate. I know you can’t afford this alone, so maybe you can live with him. He is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. You can find him at St. Bart’s anytime.”

John did not have much choice before him, so he decided to visit the younger Holmes. Hopefully he could get closer to Mycroft and destroy whatever was between him and Greg.

The first thing he heard, was the crack of the riding crop. A young man, by the name Sherlock, was furiously whipping a… corpse. “Oh god,” John thought. “This man is a psychopath!” But for Greg, he could endure this.

He waited for the young man to stop and to talk to him. But before he could even introduce himself, his whole life story was being read out by a stranger, who claimed to know everything about John just by how he was standing. This Sherlock was unbelievably rude, just like a child. And he certainly did not possess normal social skills, John thought disapprovingly.

They went to see the flat the next day, and moved in immediately. John was welcomed… by a house of total mess. The house was filled with trash and cigarette smoke. John frowned.

They went out together, solving cases, and John had to admit life with Sherlock was exciting. He’d always loved dangers, and Sherlock always provided him with that.

As John had lived with Sherlock for a month already, it became clear Sherlock was not what others thought. He wasn’t a bad man. And he certainly would not kill people. But he was really a mystery. He liked to wander in his own mind palace, shutting everyone, including John, out. John thought there was more under that mask, just that Sherlock wouldn’t let it show. John tried to get that mask off. He gave compliments, which was genuine of course, which made Sherlock smile. But every time he became ice-cold again. Like he did not have emotions.

Soon John got tired of trying. Maybe he had mistaken. There was nothing behind that coldness. Sherlock was a machine.

John’s dislike for Sherlock grew with time.

They returned to 221B after a case. This case was a really hard one. Sherlock had not eaten or slept for three days. He didn’t even change his clothes before he fell asleep on the sofa. John wasn’t particularly tired, so he decided to sit and watch the telly.

The memories of Greg came up again, disturbing that relaxing moment. Greg and Mycroft were getting closer than ever. Greg even said a happy announcement would be made soon. John drowned in self-pity when he suddenly wondered if Sherlock had a soul mark too.

He touched Sherlock’s slim wrist gingerly, and he saw words. Curiosity drove him to look closer.

John Watson.

John felt as if he had been hit by a lightning bolt. Sherlock woke as well. He looked like a frightened kitten. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

At last, he spoke in an overly calm tone. “John.” He avoided eye contact. “You… saw it?”

Anger rose inside John but he didn’t know why. He felt devastated. “I bloody well saw it!” He shouted. “People whom I want to be soulmates with abandoned me for some fucking rat guy! How many times I wished that my soul is connected to the only decent guy I love! And it’s fucking connected with a psychopath! Why don’t you just put me in hell! If we are really soulmates, shouldn’t you care for me? Shouldn’t you love me? How many times you called me an idiot? How many times you ignored me? How many times you show off in front of me? How many times I tripped over your fucking experiments? How many times you made a mess and I cleaned up for you? Are you even capable of emotions? Of love? Do you even have a heart?” John took a deep breath.

“No, you fucking don’t.”

“And I’m bloody well glad I don’t have a soul mark. Especially not of you. Tell whatever created this soulmate business to sod off. He’d made a mistake. You don’t deserve one.”

“And maybe I don’t too.” John said softly. Then he left the flat without another word.

All the time Sherlock did not say a word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy~

“Mycroft.” Sherlock opened the door.

“Brother dear. Where’s John?” No reply. ‘Oh. So he knows.” Sherlock nodded.

Mycroft twisted his mouth at the state the flat was in, with cigarette butts and drug needles lying everywhere. “I thought you quit the smoking.”

“I did. But now?” the younger Holmes shrugged. “Helps me put off some things.”

“Tell me about it. It will help.” Mycroft said calmly.

“No one understands me. But you are the least stupid among them, brother. Why don’t you tell me?”

Mycroft smiled. “That mark, you’ve had it the first day you met John Watson. But love, love is never your area, right? What matters is only the work.”

“As you are spending longer time with him, you’re stepping into uncharted area. That scared you. You feel like you are losing control of your own body. Maybe you’ve taken your own pulse too, haven’t you, Sherlock?”

Sherlock sighed.

“And suddenly the work doesn’t seem to matter as much. You have got a new hobby. However, you know, as a _sociopath_ , you are not capable of love. And… you know who John’s heart is with. So you shut him out.”

“You’ve been careful to hide your mark from him. Because you know, he will leave you when he sees it. You don’t want him to leave. But you don’t want to love him.”

“Love. Love is your greatest fear.”

Sherlock put down his cigarette and stood up. “Go away, Mycroft. You’re not helping.”

 

 

John was walking along the streets. Without a home, without some criminal to chase down, London felt hollow. Empty. Just like how John was feeling right now.

It’s not like he’s missing Sherlock. “There’s no way I’ll be missing that crazy man.” He said to himself. “Think about Greg. Think about Greg.” But all that came into his mind was the tall, slim figure, those curls, that coat that’s flapping.

“He’s fucking hurt me. He’s locked me out! I tried! I tried!” he told himself. “I do not love him! It’s Greg I love!”

But a voice in his head begged to differ. “You were interested at first, but he told you he wouldn’t love anyone, male or female. You were hurt. You tried to lift his mask, but he locked you out. So you fool yourself that you love Greg. But you don’t.”

“No. No. No!”

“Yes.” The Voice said. “Look at yourself. What plan did you have to win Greg’s heart again? What have you done? You can’t even remember his birthday. But think. What plan did you have to win Sherlock’s heart? Oh, the ridiculous plans! Remember how you spent days reciting the 243 types of tobacco ashes, to impress him! Though you failed. Ha. How many times you’ve wondered about Sherlock’s birthday? Even going as far as to ask Mycroft?”

“Alright, stop! Maybe, maybe I do. But he’ll never love me back. Why bother?”

John drank hard in the pub that night. He was so drunk he could barely walk. He remembered getting on a cab, which brought him to 221B Baker Street.

~

John opened the door by his key, and he saw an unconscious Sherlock lying on the floor with used needles around, and the floor covered with unknown white powders. John’s brain couldn’t comprehend this peculiar picture.

“Oh, Sherlock. I love you.” And he fell onto the floor, just above Sherlock, and was fast asleep.

~

Next morning John found himself in his own bedroom again. He was so hungover everywhere on his body was painful. But especially on his wrist.

He sat up a bit. And… saw a man standing beside the bed, watching over him, with a pair of blue eyes that didn’t seem human.

“I’m thinking you’d like to talk.”

“Christ Sherlock. I’ve just woke up!”

Sherlock’s gaze sat upon John’s wrist. “The mark.”

And it said: Sherlock Holmes.

John knew what this meant. When two persons got their marks for each other, it was because they both loved each other.

That meant…

Sherlock also loved John.

Oh.

Fucking silly soulmate system.

There was an awkward silence between the two men.

The doorbell rang. “Eh… eh… I guess, I’ll go?” John asked awkwardly.

And… the great Mycroft Holmes walked in. “Tsk… Tsk…” He said with a smirk. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“So,” he turned to John. “Is your wrist alright now? Not painful anymore?” Still smirking.

A part of John wondered how Mycroft could possibly know. But the bigger part of him wouldn’t be surprised if someone tell him Mycroft was in charge of even the fucking soulmate system. He could almost picture Mycroft in one of those Greek robes, lying leisurely on a cloud, maybe with cakes surrounding him, and checking a list, saying “He goes with her, she goes with him; this goes with that, that goes with this.”

John couldn’t control his laughter. “I don’t know you occupy a minor position in the heavens too, Mycroft.”

“Funny, John.” Mycroft pulled one of his fake smiles. “Are we to expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?”

“Shut up, brother mine, you haven’t helped at all!” Sherlock said.

Mycroft’s smile was only wider. “I haven’t helped? I haven’t helped? Sherlock dear, do you know how much it costs me to ask a favor of the Gods to make you John’s soulmate?” Upon seeing the horrified looks on both Sherlock and John, he added. “Course not. I see John’s already has an influence on your intelligence, brother. I haven’t really helped.”

He continued. “But John, I do wonder how, in your drunken state, could you hop on a cab, and the cabbie would mysteriously know where you’d be going to, and take you to Baker Street?”

“No shit, Mycroft! You didn’t arrange that, did you? Don’t tell me that cabbie is one of your minions!”

“I didn’t say anything.” That smirk returned. “Anyway, there’s not much I can do here. Good morning.” And he strode off, swinging his umbrella.

~

“I got the idea that this sort of thing,” John made a hand gesture in the air between the two, “was not your area.”

“Yes. And I don’t have the experience. I didn’t trust my body, which clearly showed signs which I could not ignore. These biological signs include dilated pupils, increased pulse, the nausea, emotional instability. And they are intensifying…”

“Alright, alright there, Mr. Smart. In human language that means you’re in love. You know how many times I tried to break that wall of ice of you, I tried. But nothing, nothing happened.”

“I… uh… I am not capable of love. I don’t have a heart, really.” John thought for a moment that Sherlock looked sad but that was gone in a blink and Sherlock resumed his emotionless face.

“Who told you that non-sense?” John said angrily, before realizing those were the exact words he once told Sherlock.

“Look, I’m sorry for that. Let’s start all over again, okay?” John added.

“Okay. But first, dinner?”

“Starving.”

And they held hands for the first time.

~

“Oh, brought your date with you, haven’t you, Sherlock?” Angelo welcomed them warmly.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oookay... the ending may be a little bit too abrupt.   
> I may write another chapter of pure fluff to end this. Please let me know what you think in the comments and tell me if you want a fluff chapter (I've got a feeling no one will comment bleh)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos or a comment! Updates will be (almost) daily.


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